


H is for HBT

by vodkastinger



Category: Billary - Fandom, Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Emotional, F/M, Funny, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 14:08:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9552266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vodkastinger/pseuds/vodkastinger
Summary: A smutty piece set during the 2016 campaign.Inspired by a silly thing I noticed in a photograph. By the way, there's some "plot" in the beginning.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: this is a fictional work and it's not intended to be taken too seriously or to offend any of the people depicted in it.  
> And if you're reading, Hillary: first, wtf are you doing here? And second: I'm so, sooo sorry.  
> For those not familiar with the term HBT: Hillary describes it as their "Human Being Time", aka time not spent talking politics when she's with Bill, but we all assume it's shorthand for sexy times! ;D

Bill and Hillary let out a sigh of relief as they finally entered their hotel room. The rally had been fantastic and the people very enthusiastic, but they had had to spend another two hours on their feet afterwards, greeting supporters one on one, signing autographs and connecting with the local officials, so they were longing for some well deserved quiet.

“I think that went great, don’t you?” Hillary asked Bill, as she was removing her heeled shoes and massaging her aching feet. She stifled a groan when she came back up after bending down and she massaged the small of her back.  
“Yes,” Bill answered from his place in front of the full length mirror near the door “I think you made a wonderful impression! Everyone was smiling when they left the townhall and that’s always a very good sign.”  
He went on to unbutton his waistcoat automatically, gazing to the periphery of the mirror to catch a glimpse of his wife. “Is your back still hurting?”  
“Not as much as yesterday, the painkillers seem to work”, she said, while kneading her sore muscles through her shirt. “I’ll just have to endure it for a couple of rallies more, until we take that break and I can wear flats all day.”

He let out a scoff and started to undo his tie “Baby, I still don’t understand why you don’t switch permanently to them, it’s not like the pain from your dislocated sacroiliac of twenty years ago will miraculously get better and I don’t think anybody could care less about that kind of stuff.”  
“Said the man who was never fazed by my cankles. I’m sorry to break it to you, but it really seems to be an issue with the American people. Besides, you just need to put on a three piece suit to look dapper, while even my 2008 pantsuits were _too boring_ so…”

He let out a sigh. He knew she was right, but he still hated that she had to suffer to make herself, marginally more appealing to the public by gaining a couple of inches in height. He knew this was especially important when she rallied with him, because he towered over her and her advisors had suggested she should project a commanding presence, a task more difficult to attain when she just barely reached his shoulder while wearing loafers.  
“You know you always look perfect to me, baby” he said tenderly.  
“Yeah, yeah,” she added in an amused chuckle, “but it’s the public’s heart I have to win over and you are a very bad test subject because of your huge, huuuuuge bias. You would vote for me even if I went out campaigning in a sack cloth like some sort of hermit monk.”  
“Oh, I thought that was Bernie’s strategy!”  
“Ha!” he saw her genuine smile and her sparkly amused eyes and he chuckled to himself in return.

“Yeah, you’re right, I’m biased. Look at this” he fiddled with the small H pinned to the lapel on his jacket, rotating it so that the arrow now pointed towards his heart, and declared in an overly dramatic tone:  
“I think I never recovered from that shot by Cupid in the Yale Law Library so long ago: you can still see the arrow here, poking out of my chest, your initial engraved on it…”  
“Oh, gosh, Bill,” she said in half-mocking half amused tone “you really were the perfect politician for the 90s - you are just so corny!”  
He grinned and sheepishly looked at her “You mean it’s not working, then?”  
She scoffed, feigning annoyance, but couldn’t suppress the smile bubbling from inside her: “I first noticed you when you were talking about watermelons, _of course_ it’s working. You could read me the telephone book and I would still be enthralled”

“If you want to break this spell I have on you, you better make me shut up, then!” he wriggled his eyebrows and puckered his lips demanding a kiss while she laughed at his silliness. Though she was amused, he could see she was starting to entertain more lusty thoughts, because she brought her hand up to knead at the nape of her neck in an automatic gesture that betrayed her anticipation, while trying to cover the slight flush that had spread from her throat to her cheeks. He saw her look downwards and chuckled once again while she silently deliberated on what to do next. She wetted her lips and Bill bit his lower lip in return to suppress his amused grin - oh yes, he had been right.

He composed his face and put up a hopeful expression, eyebrows raised and endearing wide smile in place.  
“So?”  
“You foxy little devil… I should leave you hanging sometimes, instead of always caving in!”  
“Don’t say it like that!” he said with a mixture of mock surprise and feigned hurt “It makes it seem like you are you’re begrudgingly conceding victory, when you just have to give yourself permission to be swept off your feet! It’s a win win for us both.”  
While he was still babbling she advanced slowly but decisively in his direction and caressed the lapels of his jacket to then grip them tightly and drag him to her:“Alright, alright,” she said dismissively, now more focused on the near future activities, “just make good on your promise and shut up while I kiss you, ok?”

She stood on tiptoe and planted quite a long kiss on his closed lips, then chuckled against his mouth, the vibrations spreading from the skin there right inside his chest to spread a sunny warmth. The joyful feeling was overwhelming, as always, and seemed to be spilling out of him, channeled back through the connection of her hands lying their welcome weight on his chest.  
He started to chuckle too. He almost felt like an idiot, but she could always make him feel so deliciously light headed and bubbly: it was awesome.

She had drawn back from the kiss and was now looking into his eyes with her beautiful baby blue ones. The corners scrunched up in those adorable little lines brought about by laughter.  
His heart swelled with both joy and tenderness, he thought he probably had that wistfully vacant gaze she accused him of having during most of her speeches: though she said it like it annoyed her, he knew she liked the fact he was so proud of her. And he really was.  
He had to do something, because if he stared at her another second he would turn into a puddle of incoherent goo.  
He drew his lower lip in and bit it to try to contain his stuporous grin, then he gave her nose a couple of playful nudges with his own and she giggled like a schoolgirl.

Her eyes flashed mischievously and she slid her hands from his lapels to his undone tie, wrapping each of the two ends around one of her hands and then tugging to pull his head down in a deep deep kiss.  
They both opened their mouths and twined their tongues in a slow sensuous dance, each in turn opening up access to the other’s probing. She hummed in pleasure and her hands shifted from their firm grip: one was now resting, palm flat, on his chest, while the other had snuck to the nape of his neck to caress the sensitive skin up there.  
It was like stroking a big cat, he loved to be touched in that place, it always elicited shivers down his spine and he always had to keep his eyes closed and give into that beautiful feeling. Since before he was President, her small hand had often worked out knots from that very spot, after long days spent with his head bent over sensitive papers that could decide the fate of nations.

He drew away from their deep kiss and sighed happily, his head still bent and his eyes still closed, relishing her touch, nibbling at her lower lip and drawing it in longer from time to time.  
He was so content, he could have stayed like this forever, he thought, but she seemed to have different ideas, because she was now popping open the buttons of his shirt with her deft fingers. When she was done, she slid her hands up and down his chest and all the way across it under his shirt, feeling the warmth that exuded from him spread throughout her fingers.  
She then closed her arms around him in a tight embrace, and lay her cheek to his chest, getting more relaxed by the minute because of the utter contentedness that bonded them in that moment.  
He placed his hand over her head, caressing the top and touching her neck more firmly to relieve some residual tension there, then up again playing with her short hair.

She was so small and he always felt very protective of her: though he knew she could handle herself, as she had done countless times in her travels around the world, even in places that weren’t exactly women-friendly, he knew she secretly liked this protective side of him and she never thought it clashed with her status as a feminist icon.

She inhaled his familiar scent with a smile and placed a small kiss on the scar across his chest, as she had often done since the first time they had made love after his surgery. At the time he was still quite self conscious about that red angry mark, now turned white over time and he had worried if he could still last long enough to make the experience enjoyable for her too, given the side effects his medication could have.  
That first time hadn’t been perfect, but ever loving, ever patient Hillary suggested they continued their experiments cherishing their progress, rather then being discouraged by those first few glitches. She had been totally right and now they both enjoyed each of their encounters, body and soul, as it had always been in the past.

He thought he was time to move things along so, with his arm draped around her midsection, he maneuvered her towards the bed and in silent agreement they helped each other out of their clothes until they were down to their underwear. They lay facing each other on the bed: after a few more kisses he gained the upper hand and was now hovering over her, placing his weight on his arms in order not to crush her.  
“Is your back alright?” he asked concerned, remembering her previous complaints. It might not be the sexiest thing to utter during a love encounter, but he definitely didn’t want his wife to feel worse during the townhalls scheduled for the next day.  
“Mh-hm” she nodded with a half smile.  
“So you’re ok if I stay on top?”  
“Yeah” she said, now grabbing his biceps and stroking them appreciatively with a full grin.  
He chuckled in return at the lusty expression on her face, coupled with the unconscious lip-wetting that went with it. He had always found that particular move to be very arousing.

He gave her a quick peck, then began a slow descent tracing a trail of kisses first on her neck, then down her shoulders, where he delicately moved the straps of her bra aside, before reaching back to unhook it and free her full breasts in all their glory. He lowered his head softly to rest between them, mirroring her earlier pose while inhaling that familiar scent that was just hers: a warm mix of her peachy skin, her body cream and her favourite perfume.  
That smell he could appreciate when he buried his head in her bosom while she petted his head after a long stressful day, that smell which had consoled him since the first time he had cried on her chest, still in his twenties, recounting awful memories from his childhood that he had never shared with anyone. That smell that, for him, truly meant home.

He didn’t linger unmoving too much though. Now balancing himself on his knees, he ran his hands up and down her sides, stopping at times to get a handful of her luscious curves, gripping them tighter to impress the mark of his fingers for a fleeting moment and then following with his mouth to soothe with more kisses and drags of his tongue the spots he had manhandled.  
He went back to her breasts to pay them more attention and he ended up massaging them, with a pleasurable, but firm touch, while kissing her deeply once more, his tongue coordinating with the circles his thumbs were drawing on her nipples.  
He hadn’t come really near her center yet, but he could feel her arousal growing in the way she was pushing her chest upwards to maximize the contact against his rough touch and in the hand that she was sneaking from his shoulders down towards her wetting panties.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” he asked with mock outrage after he abruptly detached himself from their kiss.  
“Nothing” she answered feigning ignorance.  
“Uhmm… ok, so you surely don’t mind if we bring _this_ ” he grabbed her wandering right hand by her wrist “ _here_ ,” he placed it on her right breast “and let me handle the rest” he said, now sneaking his left hand to caress the inside of her right thigh in long lines from her knee to the hem of her underwear, but stopping short of touching her most sensitive area, goosebumps of anticipation forming in his wake.

He shifted: his right hand continued to massage her left breast, but he now added his mouth to kiss and lick it, popping her nipple in his mouth and sucking tightly on it, alternating his laving tongue with little nips that drew sharp breaths from her.  
She was basking in those pleasurable sensations and she started to mirror the movements of his mouth with her hand on her other breast, rolling her pert nipple between her thumb and her index.  
She had closed her eyes to better appreciate the feeling and he thought it was time to add more stimulation: he finally let his caressing hand reach the front of her damp underwear, he pressed his thumb harshly up and down her slit through the material, finishing with a couple of quick strokes over her clit  
She was taken by surprise by his gestures, but that was really what she needed.  
She let out a small strangled cry and then a pleading “Please, please, don’t stop Bill!” when he stilled his hand.

He did stop and she whimpered, bucking her hips to grind against his hand, squeezing her breast more, tangling her left hand in his hair but to no avail.  
He didn’t often leave her on the edge like this, but today he wanted to drag her pleasure out as long as he managed to, even though he would have preferred to slide into her welcoming folds right in that moment.

He gripped her wrists lightly, holding them in his large hand and hovered over her, eliminating any other point of contact between their bodies, sliding back up, face to face with her. She was biting her lower lip, cheeks flushed and eyes pleading, still rocking her lower body to try to get a little friction from her panties on the heated skin of her swollen lips.  
Clutching her wrists in one hand, he caressed her neck and shoulders firmly with the other, but he didn’t venture near her breasts or anywhere lower.  
“Be patient, baby,” he said in between little kisses to her lips and occasional nips to her nipples that made her even more desperate “I have a couple of things in store, but I’m never going to make it through them if you keep on reacting like this… let’s just calm down a moment and then we can go back to where we left, ok?”

Stifling a whimper of disappointment, she nodded, while wetting her lips again and thrusting her breasts up following a residual shiver of pleasure down her spine.  
He kept soothing her, even though he blew a breath of air over her still wet nipples, causing them to peak right back up and her to growl:“You teasing bastard. This better be the most stellar fuck of the century, because I’m very angry at you right now.”  
He knew she was half-joking, because his grip on her wrists was so lax that she could have freed them easily and told him to stop fooling around if she wanted to.

To be honest, he wasn’t the domineering type, he actually enjoyed a little of rough and tumble courtesy of his wife, who sometimes bossed him around under the covers, but he also enjoyed these occasions.  
He knew she was a persuasive woman, who could sweet talk foreign leaders into agreeing with her just by the power of her rhethoric and her conviction, so the fact that she was now waiting patiently for his next move instead of trying to precipitate events to reach her well deserved climax was a wonderful reward and a testament to the trust and love she felt for him.

Having felt he had waited long enough to cool her down, he started to trail kisses again along her middle, caressing her heated skin and her plush breasts, while stopping to nuzzle her navel. He brushed his cheek against her belly -so soft- to land his mouth against the thin horizontal scar of her c-section, that rested not far from the thick, neatly shaped, patch of brownish curls of her sex. He kissed the line all over, like many times before, and this was somehow an implicit signal of what she could expect: it was an indication that he intended to stay in the area a little while longer and he could feel the anticipation growing anew inside of her.  
He nuzzled the thin line and then proceeded lower, now opening her creamy thighs wider while kneeling at the foot of the bed, his upper half stretched comfortably over the mattress to gain easy access to her damp underwear. He first caressed the outside of her thighs - so full and luscious- then moved to the inside, tiptoeing with his fingers up to the hem of her panties, but scratching lightly down and away from them before reaching his target. He saw her start to buck her hips again and he finally decided to move things along.

He stretched to find her scar once again and kiss it as he had done before, meanwhile hooking his fingers on the elastic band of her panties and calmly sliding them down her legs. His head followed their path, kissing and licking from her hipbone, down the apex of her thigh, to finally come close to her center, now bare to him and deliciously inviting, her glistening folds in full display.  
He started to spread more kisses, far from her opening at first. When he felt her hand on the top of his head, twining her fingers in his short hair, he finally moved closer and started to lick her labia up and down.  
“Oh, God, yes, please.” “Please Bill, I need more!”  
Those two sentences, uttered in rapid succession made him capitulate and he laved her clitoris with slow sensual drags of his flat tongue, before latching on to it and starting to suck slowly.

“Mmmmhhh. Yes, like that baby!” she moaned, her eyes closed and her head thrown back.  
He kept his rhythm going, not wanting to accelerate yet, but his hands started to roam her body again, leaving sparks in their wake. He rested them once again on the outside of her thighs and gripped them to get better purchase and increase the pressure he was creating with his mouth.  
She took in a sharp breath, when he strengthened his tight seal on her clitoris and let out a small cry she couldn’t suppress when he slid two fingers inside of her, pumping at a leisurely pace that was still not fast or rough enough to send her over the edge.  
She was now getting in a frenzy, her instinct would have been to close her thighs to try and drag him closer, right into her:she gripped both her breasts with her hands squeezing them tightly, adding more stimulation - still something was amiss and she could only trail on the hazy edge of maddening arousal, without actually getting the bone shattering orgasm she so desperatly needed.

He stopped once again and she was ready to strangle him at this point, but he fumbled with his boxers and finally freed his arousal from its confines. Climbing back on the edge of the bed, he looked her straight in the eyes and brought his index and middle finger, still glistening from her juices, to hover over her lips, demanding access. Without breaking eye contact she opened up and brought them in.  
“Yeah, baby, now suck on them” he watched her comply, with her gaze still fixated on him, while he started to stroke himself to bring himself to a full erection. He then started to move his member up and down her slit to cover it in her moisture, occasionally giving a series of light taps with the tip against her clitoris, that made her suck even more forcefully on his fingers, now slowly moving in and out of her mouth

When he felt he was slick enough, he removed his fingers from her mouth and placed the tip of his hardness against her opening.  
“Is this enough? Or do you want more?” he breathed out heavily, with a perverse joy at the thought he was making her beg for his cock.  
“More” she let out in a strangled whisper, as if she would die if they waited ant longer.  
“Tell me baby, what do you want?”  
“Your cock, hard, right now.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, he swiftly drove into her welcoming folds, taking a second afterwards to draw a shaky breath as the physical relief he felt finally connecting with her after this long foreplay washed over him. He kissed her deeply, foregoing the usual first leisurely strokes to firmly slam himself into her from the start, as he couldn’t wait any longer.

Hillary was now wrapping her legs tightly around his torso, meeting his thrusts with counterpoints of her own and whimpering from the intense pleasure while gripping his back like she were holding on for dear life.  
After their long foreplay, this whirlwind of stimulation was quickly threatening to overwhelm him, but he didn’t want to leave Hillary hanging, after teasing and denying her orgasm for so long.  
He resolved to shift their positions to increase the pressure on her clitoris, so he gently folded her legs against her chest to bring her knees over his shoulders, holding them in place while he slammed even deeper inside her, his pubic bone rubbing her just right on her clit.  
Now with her new angle and the tighter squeeze she was crying out in pleasure with every thrust.  
He just had to brush his hand against her clit to finally make her come hard, with unending shivers down her whole body, that made her toes curl and drew every drop out of him too, while he cried out "Hillary!" like a Hallelujah to the heavens.

They separated after a while and he rolled on his side dragging her to lay her head on his chest, tenderly stroking her hair and the side of her face, now smiling in a sated and blissful expression. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, because he was still out of breath and overwhelmed by their passionate joining.  
He heard her mutter something, but he couldn’t make it out right away over the low buzz that still lingered in his ears after his glorious orgasm.  
“Uh? What did you say, love? I didn’t catch that.”  
“I said: thank God for yoga.” She mumbled back, angling her head up towards his.  
Noting his puzzled expression she clarified “Bill, you’re lucky enough to have a wife who’s very constant with her yoga schedule, otherwise I don’t think that last position would have worked as well as it did. I hate to break it to you, but we’re getting old.” She rubbed her hand against her back, suddenly reminding him that he had lost track of that issue in their frenzy.  
Assessing that, all things considered, it didn’t seem serious and she was probably putting up a bit of a show for comedic purposes, he chuckled and kissed the top of her head.  
“Ok, baby, you have a point and I’m sorry I forgot about your back. To avoid future problems, what do you suggest we do next time?”  
“I don’t know, Bill… but keep up with the saxophone practice.”  
“Uh?” his knitted brow was adorable and she chuckled looking at his puzzled expression.  
“I thought we agreed I wouldn’t pull any of my tricks during your campaign, I’m practicing just because I have a lot of free time now that I’m US based instead of trotting around the world for the CGI.”  
“Yes and you’re right about the campaign, but keep it up. I think it helps with other – uhm – extracurricular activites…”

He stared at her for a while, saw the blush that crept up her cheeks coupled with her cheeky smile and inquired “Do you mean… do you mean it makes me better at cunnilingus?”  
“Yep” she said curtly, nodding with her cheek still against his chest.  
“But didn’t you always say I was very good at it?!”  
“And that’s true, love, your technique has always been impeccable and I’ve enjoyed it very much over the years, but I’ve just noticed your breathing pattern has improved. And maybe the pressure a bit too?”  
“Oh, yeah, thanks. Let’s see… should I join a free diving team, so we can test if I can make you peak in one go, without breaks?”  
“Don’t be silly…” but he had started down a path of exaggerated, melodramatic speech, brought on by post-coital bliss and now he was just saying the dumbest things in a declaratory tone, like he was reciting Shakespeare: “And if I die between your legs, let it be written on my obituary that I died serving America. That I immolated myself for the greater good of keeping their future Madam President happy and sane. That my sacrifice should be honored by instuting a National Cunnilingus Day, in which each husband shall follow my lead and bury himself between the delicious thighs of his wife…”

She was laughing for the grandiose tone in which he delivered his "Appeal to the Nation", but swatted him a few times when he threatened to continue his silly speech.  
He stopped and they stayed silent for a while, his hand still petting her hair. Then he chuckled.  
She looked back at his amused expression and asked: “Now what?”  
“I was wondering…” he paused, because he was grinning too much to continue without bursting in a laughing fit, so she got even more curious “if this whole _improving the breathing pattern and suction_ business” he made another pause, dramatic this time “is the reason why Anne Kaine still puts up with Tim’s armonica obsession.”  
“Oh, no!” she said between horrified and amused “Do you think…”  
“Oh yes” he answered her with a grin.  
“Now I need some brain bleach to get those images out of my head, urgh!”  
“Well, I seem to have discovered a way to make you forget a lot of things… and since I stopped short of making you orgasm with my mouth before, I could gladly demonstrate the full obliviation powers of _Bill Clinton 2.0: now with more suction!_ ”  
She broke into a laugh and brought him into a passionate kiss, before he made good on his promise and started to slide down her body once more.

  
The end.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any mistakes since English is not my mother tongue.  
> I've been watching footage of their '93 inaugural ball and when Bill was playing the saxophone I was clearly not paying attention to the music, hence the dirty thoughts and the conclusion.  
> I have made it all up and I cannot vouch for the effectiveness of that kind of exercise on one's lovemaking skills, so don't complain to me if it doesn't work.  
> If you ever find out and feel like sharing, or you just have something to say about this fic, feel free to comment. ;D


End file.
